100 Ways to Kill Harry Potter
by My Lady Alethea
Summary: As the title says, 100 ways to kill Harry Potter. 100 endings to our favorite, unkillable, slightly unstable hero. Sounds fun? Right?
1. Death 1

**This is a pet project I've been working on with a few friends for a while now, now, it;s finally taking story-format form. Just as a warning, all of these little tidbits of morbidness are extrememly short, so don't expect pages and pages of deaths every update, but do expect more than chapter to be added at one time:) I guess that may make up for how incredibly short all of these chapter are. Anyway, please review, and if you have any gross, random, funny ideas, drop me a line, I'd love to hear from you. There will be 100 of these little things, so prepare:) I'll need your help sometime once I run out of gruesome deaths. Standard disclamer, I don't own Harry Potter, I never have, and I never will.**

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"Harry, you need to know this, you're not human." Albus Dumbledore said, "On the night that your parents died, you did too. You died again in your first year and your second year." 

"Are you on crack?" Harry asked calmly. "Because if you are, I'd like to join you in the land of magic mushrooms."

"No Harry, I am not on drugs, this is the truth. You can't die." Dumbledore smiled, plotting how to sue this in the war. "Isn't that great news?"

"Wonderful," muttered Harry. "There goes all that time I put into my suicide note."

Dumbledore chuckled, what a joker, ushering him out of his office, "its dinnertime Harry, why don't you go to the Great Hall?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll choke on a pea," Harry muttered as he walked down the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Entering the great hall, Harry got hit with a heavy weight from above. Neville Longbottom was dropped from 20 feet up by Peeves, landing squarely on Harry. An audible crack was heard.

"OH MY GOD!" Yelled Hermione, rushing over to where Neville had stood up, unharmed, and Harry lay still. He looked dead.

"YES HE'S DEAD, I CAN RAVAGE HERMIONE WITHOUT HARRY TRYING TO WIN HER OVER!" Ron laughed evilly, jumping up on top of the table..

Dumbledore pulled Hermione off of Harry's inert body. His chest didn't rise or fall, his eyes were shut, and his neck and head were bent at an odd angle. "Don't worry Ms. Granger, he'll be fine." Assured the old coot.

More tears streamed down her face, "FINE!" She bellowed. "HIS BLOODY NECK'S BROKEN!"

"'Mione?" Harry said groggily, sitting up. He noticed the room was tilted at an odd angle, grabbed his head and pulled, feeling his bones snap back into their rightful positions. "Why is Ron dancing on the table?"


	2. Death 2

Harry was sitting out by the lake, Hermione reading a book and Ron brooding slightly, casting glances towards Hermione every few moments. Harry idly wondered if the girl had realized that she had a stalker, a very coveted commodity.

On a whim, Harry got up, picking up a rock, and throwing it with all his might towards the center of the lake. Needless to say, it didn't go far. Hogwarts should really consider investing in a physical education class, or some sort of exercise program.

As he turned back to ask Hermione a question about some random topic only she'd know the answer for because she is obsessively knowledgeable about these sort of things, Harry felt something cold and slimy wrap around his foot. He glanced down, and saw a rather large, nasty looking tentacle wrapped around his ankle.

"Shit," was all the teen managed to get out before he was dragged yelling and kicking into the depths of the lake. Once again, Ron gleefully got up and began his victory dance, and grabbed Hermione around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder in a rather weak sort of fireman's carry, getting ready to cart her off into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, and promptly keeled over under the weight of another human being since there was no exercise program at Hogwarts and he wasn't accustomed to carrying around anything heavier than a broom.

A minute later, with Ron struggling to free himself from under a hysterical Hermione's dead weight, a screaming form was flung rather violently from the water, and at a velocity that would make any Quidditch player, even on a top broom cry, flew with a screech into the Womping Willow. Harry was promptly impaled through his neck by a swinging branch of the slightly homicidal tree, and his limp body, still spurting blood all over the nice, clean bark of the tree, was swung around by his neck like a limp rag doll.

An hour after a student alerted Dumbledore to Harry's rather grisly situation, Flilch came with a ladder to remove the teen's limp corpse from the tree limb and scrub off the blood from the precious tree before it stained. Harry's already horribly maimed and mutilated body fell to the thump with a sickening thump while the man above on the ladder laughed evilly.

Hermione rushed over to Harry's still form, reaching his side just as the teen sat up, spit out a mouthful of the tasty metallic red stuff, and reached up to touch the tree limp still sticking through his neck. With a roll of his eyes, he grabbed the end of the branch, and with a mighty tug, which was an incredible due to the physical strength that was required to remove the intruding limb and the lack of a physical exercise program at the magic school, yanked the sharp pointy stick out of his neck with a wet, sickening squelching sound.

Hermione gagged as Harry looked down at the bloodstained tree limb in his hands, then up at the tree and cursed, "Damnit! So close!" He yelled at the tree. "You missed the heart you stupid good for nothing tree!"

Then, as Harry waved the still dripping branch at the tree in defiance, Hermione passed out. Harry looked from the bushy haired girl, to the still form of Ron lying on the ground, flattened seemingly and then back to his tree limb. With a shrug of his shoulders, he slung the limb over his shoulder and marched back to the castle. It would make a nice souvenir to hang on the wall of his dorm in Gryffindor Tower.


	3. Death 3

Harry stood on the edge of the astronomy tower window, looking down at the ground below him. He grinned as he saw the tiny ant like form of Hermione waving at him from the ground and yelling at him not to jump. Actually, everyone on the ground looked like little ants; Harry imagined a huge boot coming down to squish them, just like this stupid curse squished his dreams of dieing a painful, bloody death.

"Harry," Flitwick squeaked from behind the highly amused teen, "don't jump."

"Why not?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Because it's not with it. You have so much to live for," the little man gulped nervously.

"Er……" Harry paused, "do you even know me?"

"Of course I do," the midget chirped, "I have pictures of you all over my walls, totally coating every space in my rooms. Even in the bathroom."

Harry held back the vomit which boiled up in the back of his throat. "That is a terrible mental image." He said lightly, smacking his forehead, "bad imagination."

As Harry looked from the perverted little man advancing on him to the ground below, he chose the ground instead of a pedophile, stalker, Michel Jackson wannabe, and jumped.

He heard Flitwick yell as he plummeted to the ground, and for a moment, while Harry was in a total freefall, he yelled, "I'm soaring, flying, there's not a star in heaven we can't reach!" And then he hit the ground with a sickening thump.

There was a moment which it appeared that the teen had survived the fall unscathed, landing on his feet, and then with a sickening sound of bone breaking and flesh tearing, Harry Potter's hip and leg bones shot through his shoulder's, making him appear to shrink before everyone's eyes.

Everyone was staring in a morbid sort of way at the savior of the Wizarding world who was impaled all the way through with his legs until finally Harry rolled his eyes, "What are you looking at, assholes?" He asked, before waddling away.

It was completely silent for a few minutes until Snape began chuckling, then he began laughing, then he became hysteric, rolling around on the blood spattered ground, holding his sides. It was then that three first years, and one fifth year died of either major coronary episodes or their brains imploding because of the greasy haired man's laughter, though rare, usually caused mass deaths in its wake.


End file.
